


The Eruption of Icarus

by caprius



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I just love all bull sera and dorian as a party its a literal party, M/M, This is kinda self-indulgent cause its what I imagine my party'd do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caprius/pseuds/caprius
Summary: When the Eluvian finally caved and let himself, Bull and Sera enter, Lavellan was on the ground and Solas was gone. Dorian fell to his knees by his lover, the man he loved more than love itself was capable of describing."Amatus, amatus,"
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58





	The Eruption of Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> Basically some thoughts on what I like to imagine happened with the Anchor at the end of Trespasser. Thoughts are always appreciated, cheers x

He was barely registering that he was running. Faster, faster, nothing was fast enough. The wind rushed past him but everything was deafened by the blood rushing in his ears, adrenaline and fear thrusting its rusty blade deep in his heart, twisting and turning until he might throw up.  
When the eluvian finally caved and let himself, Bull and Sera enter, Lavellan was on the ground and Solas was gone. Dorian fell to his knees by his lover, the man he loved more than love itself was capable of describing. 

“Amatus, amatus,” panicked whispers were all he felt like he was able to articulate as he lifted Lavellan’s head from the mossy stone ground and onto his lap, pushing wisps of disheveled hair away from his clammy forehead. “Dorian..” Lavellan whispered, barely audible as his eyes fluttered closed again, strained from the effort. The mage grasped his lover’s good hand and squeezed it, only then realizing the appearance of the Anchor. His glove had been thrown away and the hand was that sickening green color, completely consumed by the magic that had been tearing him apart all this time. 

“No, no--” the mage’s eyes widened as he watched the hand crumple before his eyes, his breath coming in short gasps. He took Lavellan’s bad hand in both of his and closed his eyes, desperately channeling any healing magic he could think of through his mangled flesh. The sigh he heard Iron Bull exhale told him all he needed to know. Ineffective.

“Dorian,” Bull said, reaching behind him and wrapping his fingers around the leather shaft of his axe. 

“Magic’s not gonna fix that.” Sera was tight lipped behind him, a shaking hand at her mouth as she refused to look directly at them knowing full well Bull’s intentions.  
Before Dorian could open his mouth to answer, Lavellan inhaled a raspy breath beneath him. 

“No, please--” he uttered, his healthy hand coming up to clutch at Dorian’s shirt as tears welled up in his eyes and fear and hurt threatened to consume him “I can’t--”.

Dorian’s heart ached so terribly as he felt every emotion the love of his life expressed. He took the hand that was clenched in his shirt and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles with every bit of love and reassurance he could muster. With Lavellan’s teary eyes on him he saw Bull out of the corner of his eye, gently taking the bad hand and guiding it to lie on the rocky path beneath them. Lavellan was shaking and so Dorian shook. His lover’s healthy hand was still by his lips, still kissing his knuckles softly one by one. And as Bull’s axe was brought up, up, up, Dorian’s breath hitched. The sound of flesh sundering, bones cracking and severing tore through the shaky silence like an explosion in a peaceful glade. Lavellan screamed and Dorian knew that no sound in this world could ever hope to match the terror it thrust through every chamber of his heart.  
As desperate fingers still clutched Lavellan’s healthy hand, he distressfully mumbled words of magic that finally, finally, rendered Lavellan unconscious. His breath slowed from panicked, pained gasps to steady, calm breaths but Dorian’s heart refused to stop aching. Bull was quick to bandage the bloody remains of Lavellan’s arm and they all knew they had to act fast if he was to not bleed out. Dorian gently rose, Lavellan’s head against the now blood-splattered stone, before he wrapped both arms around his lover, lifting his lithe frame up in his arms, holding him steady there as if he weighed nothing. In that moment, it truly felt like he was nothing but a feather, light and rid of all energy, meaning and purpose. Rid of a terrible disease but nearly dead from the aftermath. One foot at death’s doorstep and a hand firmly clutching Dorian’s heart. Bull had offered to carry him. It’d be easier, he’d said. But Dorian had firmly declined. Lavellan would be in his arms to the ends of the earth, so help him, Maker.

xxx

The quiet before the storm. That was what this felt like. As his fingers gently combed through Lavellan’s hair, watching the soft strands flow between his fingers, Dorian contemplated how he’d comfort his amatus when he eventually woke to find his arm missing.  
He was blissfully asleep now and it was just the two of them, which arguably could be seen as both good and bad. Good, solely on the basis of the two of them being in each other’s presence. Bad, because he truly did not know how to mend the hurt that was to come. 

He had this idea of trying to be gentle about it. Some shit about it being the only way, but when had that ever helped? Perhaps saying nothing and just holding him would be better. The overthinking was eating away at him, but it dissolved as soon as the sheets wrapped around Lavellan rustled softly and his eyes slowly opened. Dorian watched him with a light smile, all while his heart began to race.

“Hello amatus,” his head was cocked to the side and his fingers were still gently carting through his lover’s hair and pushing it out of his face, long as it was.

“Ma vhenan,” Lavellan said as he leaned into the petting, his tired eyes closing to revel at the contact. 

“what happened?” his eyes fluttered open again, innocent and calm as a lake reflecting the loveliest clear sky. Dorian wished he could have answered before Lavellan gestured to sit up. Or perhaps it was best that he didn’t get to say anything at all. His lover motioned to push himself upwards but stumbled. His severed arm failed him and he was thrown off balance and just then his eyes, those innocent eyes who did not deserve to have seen even half the things he’d witnessed, landed on the bandaged remains of his arm. His eyes widened, his pupils shrunk and his breathing immediately quickened as he pushed himself towards his healthy arm as if he could distance himself from the sad remainder of his lost limb. As if he could push it away from himself and pretend it wasn’t his reality. His head whipped to the side to look at Dorian, scared and almost accusatory, his bottom lip quivering with confusion and hurt. 

“My arm--, why? How will I, I can’t fight like this-, how will I protect you? My sword--”  
“Amatus,” Dorian took Lavellan’s hand and laced their fingers together. 

“Your mark, I--, it was corrupting your arm a dangerous amount, my love. I’m sorry, it was the only way to keep you safe. To keep you here. Call us selfish if you must.” His pathetic attempt to be funny did nothing to make Lavellan smile and he knew damn well that what he had told him wouldn’t mend anything. Instead, Dorian squeezed his hand and Lavellan looked away from him, his lips tightly squeezed together and an invisible thread knitting a knot between his eyebrows, pushing them together in pain. His head sank and his eyes were covered by strands of hair, but his shoulders shook and his breathing hitched and Dorian knew crying when he heard it. 

“How will I fight?” was all he asked.

How could that be answered? It couldn’t, not in a way that’d ease his pain. Instead, the mage rose from the chair he had been occupying by the bedside and sat on the edge of the bed. His free hand found Lavellan’s shoulder and gently pushed him to the side to let his head rest against Dorian’s chest. As soon as the elf hit his chest his shoulders began to shake even worse as he pressed his forehead against his lover, tears staining the cloth beneath him and streaming down his cheeks to pool at his chin. Dorian’s eyes began to stung with tears of his own, but he blinked them away and bit his lip. All he could do was hold Lavellan close, comb through his hair and kiss the top of his head until he had no tears left within him.

“One thing at a time, amatus,” his lover sobbed and his heart felt as if it’d finally shatter for good. “one thing at a time..”


End file.
